


guess we'll have to make do

by ribbonelle



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 09:41:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10896684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ribbonelle/pseuds/ribbonelle
Summary: "Youhadto make it lame!"





	guess we'll have to make do

**Author's Note:**

> im just posting old old works of mine! here's something from the happy au mercurymaplekey and i talk about sometimes. god, the things that could have been.
> 
> guessilldie.jpg

It’s actually kinda cute, Ironhide’s saddened lamenting about his culinary skills, but Wasp isn’t going to admit that. Ever, for eternity. (Unless one day they decide on sharing sparks to form a bond or whatever, then that’s out of Wasp’s control, but till that happened? No way.)

It’s worse that Ironhide is holding the ruined flask in his servos, looking like a wronged turbofox. Pink furls of congealed, scorched energon flowers out of the flask’s mouth like abstract art, and the smell of burnt fuel permeates the air. Wasp is smirking, but even he realizes that the expression doesn’t seem too malicious. It probably has something to do with how cute Ironhide is right now, but that is irrelevant.

“What are we gonna do?” the big mech says, and he sounds like he’s in despair, “Did we make a mistake? Ain’t it crucial for at least one of us to know how to work the kitchen, so y’know, we don’t go broke?”

Now, Wasp is in a fantastic mood. Things are spectacular, because he doesn’t get many days off, and today is one of those very rare days. It’s a public holiday too; Cycle Omega, the day Project Omega went live; so Ironhide is free as well. They just came up with the idea of trying out processing their own energon the night before, and here they are. Failing miserably.

But still. Wasp is in a _fantastic_ mood.

“This can’t do at all, of course,” he says casually, leaning back in his chair, “Obviously we need to find new flatmates. You can’t cook, I can’t cook, we’d just ruin each other.”

Ironhide blinks in surprise, rightfully so, but Wasp knows that his poker face is the best, so it will take while for Ironhide to realize what’s up. Considering Ironhide had been his friend since their cadet days however, it isn’t much of a while at all.

He gets these creases at the side of his optics whenever he thinks he’s in on something, the dork, even if he tries to speak as seriously as possible, “Oh, yeah, you’re right. Well, we had a good run. I think Warpath’s open to the idea of sharing his place.”

“Warpath? You two get along. Like you guys like to shoot at things together in the range so maybe…that’s a good thing?” A pause, “Actually? No, you’d wreck the place in less than a week. He doesn’t need that kind of trouble, nor do you.”

Ironhide touches his own chest, tilting his head with a smile, “Aww. You care about me.”

Wasp recoils, “Uh, gross. We’re still flatmates for the time being, so I _guess_ I care. A little. But anyway, I think I can crash with Red Alert. Think about all that free medical care.”

“Wasp, buddy, speaking from experience? That’s never going to happen. She’s a great medic and she’s a great asset to the team, but free medical care? Not her thing. She’d strangle you. Verbally, but there’d be strangling.”

Wasp taps his chin, contemplating things. Truth be told, all of this is for show, but it’s fun, so it doesn’t matter. Ironhide leans against their kitchen table, folding his arms, “What about Hot Rod?”

“Are you kidding me? No way. Someone would die if we live together, and I doubt it’ll be me.” Ironhide gives Wasp a look, Wasp gives him a look right back, “It’s true!”

“I s’pose it is. Then who’s gotta bail you out from the stockades? Me, obviously.”

The mini smiles, but covers it up by looking upwards, pretending to think again, “Maybe you could live with Cliffjumper?”

Ironhide shakes his head, “Eh, no.”

“Why not?”

“We’re work-place associates, we don’t get along that well. Doesn’t seem like it’d work to me.”

Wasp shrugs, allowing himself a small smile now, “I guess we’re in a bit of a conundrum.”

Ironhide’s smiling too, his optics are all narrow and merry again, “We kinda are.”

“I guess we’re stuck with each other.”

“Guess we are.”

“Then it’s settled. We’ll just go broke from being absolute disasters at cooking, and end up living in the streets.”

“We’ll be together, though,” Ironhide grins, something about his tone making it obvious that he’s been waiting to dish out this particular line, “I don’t mind whatever as long as it’s with you.”

Classic Ironhide. Necessarily unnecessary.

He _isn’t_ blushing, but Wasp smacks the table anyway, raising his voice, “You _had_ to make it lame! You had to!”

“Yeah!” Ironhide’s having a field day, apparently, considering his huge smile, “It’s my job, mech, You like it.”

He isn’t acknowledging that with an answer, not a chance, so he just reaches over and swipes at Ironhide’s arm. Whatever he can reach, really, but Ironhide just catches his fist and they end up sort of holding hands. It’s even more embarrassing, the two of them in the kitchen with their fingers laced like idiots, the smell of singed energon still in the air, but Wasp doesn’t pull his hand away. Not for a long time.

 


End file.
